


lonely buff crab hooks up with no one

by ellipsesificate



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4656168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsesificate/pseuds/ellipsesificate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Rampage ships that he actively discouraged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lonely buff crab hooks up with no one

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous request from a fic meme on tumblr, from like a year ago.

**i.**

“X!” Depth Charge roared as he burst from the water, scrambling for the rocky ledge before a ped casually kicked away his hands and pushed down on his head.

“What’s that, old friend?” Rampage said coyly, as the water beneath him churned – he stuck his other ped in onto what felt like Depth Charge’s shoulder, forcing him to stay beneath the surface. “Your jets aren’t working? Well, I’m trying to help you up, but you don’t seem to be accepting—”

Hands finally closed around his ankles, and Rampage managed to get out a bark of laughter before he was yanked down.

**ii.**

Tarantulas was definitely one of Rampage’s least favourite among the Predacons. To be fair, he considered all of his forced teammates to be his least favourite, but running into him next to a slumbering Megatron’s seat, claws hovering just above Rampage's hostage spark, definitely reinforced the position.

“Obviously, I’m doing this to help free you,” Tarantulas whispered at the silent accusation.

“That is a pathetic lie and I hate you.”

“Okay, so perhaps, I needed someone…” The visor glanced up and down the fuming crab’s frame with a badly hidden leer. “… _sturdy_ to ask a favour or two from, completely aboveboard, of course.”

“I will tear you apart. Again. Megatron wouldn’t even stop me.”

Before Tarantulas could retort, a hand swatted him away and gripped the spark box, causing the two to scuttle back in surprise as a very much awake Megatron looked on in amusement. “He’s not wrong.”

**iii.**

He had only known the original Dinobot for a short while – long enough to have a wasp stuffed inside his barrel in what was one of his more embarrassing defeats. Still, Rampage knows that the original was cherished, respected, loved with that sickening warmth in Maximal sparks that he despised.

The clone has nothing but Megatron’s favouritism, and doesn’t desire anything more. The other Predacons steer clear. The Maximals keep their horror quiet, like professional soldiers and enemies.

As much as Rampage would love to keep his own disdainful space, he stay in the orbit of this imperfect replica. Waiting until it slips up and he can reach in, peel back chassis plates and pluck away wires until he can reclaim that missing piece of him.

It’s incredibly cold around the clone.

**iv.**

“You aren’t putting it together right.”

Rampage twisted around to snarl at the arachnid lounging on the flat bed of a boulder. Extra legs waved lazily in the air and tapped against the rock in idle condescension as Blackarachnia met his glare evenly.

“It is a tower,” he finally said, when she refused to elaborate. “Even that wretched wasp and the hybrid can put one together, do you really think that I am incapable?”

She snorted, waving a pincer to some direction beyond him. “Well, if you take a look juuuust over there, you’d see the bolt that I know you’re missing.”

“I’m sure,” he muttered, but he surreptitiously tried to glance over to the spot she had indicated, just in case. When nothing became apparent he leaned in, because the blasted piece had to be somewhere—

An admiring hum reminded him of his company and he snapped back into a standing position, plating warm. She gave him a wicked smirk, the bolt clasped tightly between her pincers. “Don’t you have a pup that you can ogle instead?!”

She just laughed.

**v.**

“Kinda figured yer’d be a bit warmer, partner.”

“My altmode is ideal for the ocean,” Rampage explained dully. It’d be so easy to veer just a little to the right, enough to crush the fuzor scuttling closely to his treads, but Megatron would undoubtedly force him to return for the wreck. A footsoldier was best wasted in battle and not in petty ‘accidents’, after all. “Have you ever been to in ocean, fuzor? I would love to demonstrate the temperatures that I am most used to.”

Quickstrike snorted as he scooted closer, either desperate for whatever body heat he could get, or ignorant of Rampage’s underlying threat. Likely both. “Maybe another time, I ain’t in the mood. Right now I jist wanna get back to base where it’s all nice and toasty…whatcha say t’givin’ me a lil lift back, eh?”

“Oh, of course – except here I thought that if anyone could tough out a small chill, it’d be you.”

“That’s just downright mean, ‘Page.”


End file.
